The marshal with the steel handcuffs took another step forward.

Patricia’s eyes darted from the marshal to the manila folder on the table.

Her fingers tightened around her pearl necklace until her knuckles turned white.

“This is ridiculous,” Patricia said, her voice shaking but sharp.

“It is a misunderstanding,” she added, looking at the general.

“A simple corporate restructuring that Allison clearly does not understand,” she said.

I turned slightly to look toward the library double doors.

My attorney, Arthur Pendleton, stepped into the light of the entryway.

Arthur unclasped his leather briefcase with two clean clicks.

He did not look at Patricia.

He pulled out a thick stack of white papers bound by a blue plastic spine.

The cover page was marked with the seal of a federal accounting firm.

“It was not a restructuring, Mrs. Monroe,” Arthur said.

“We have the forensic ledger,” he added.

I looked at Patricia’s hands.

They had stopped moving.

“We have every wire transfer from the Apex account,” Arthur said.

“And we know exactly whose personal accounts those funds ended up in,” he added.